Archives for February 2014

A short while back, I mentioned something about needing to go to the gym so I could continue to indulge in comfort foods. And thus began my journey down the rabbit hole of having a personal trainer.

Brian and I have had a gym membership for over a year. But we’ve gone maybe 5 times. Maybe.

I needed some serious motivation to get back to the gym and I was SERIOUSLY missing the awesome group training sessions I had when I went to this amazing gym back in Aurora (which is much too far away to maintain a membership). Also Brian is determined to keep up with this gym thing (look at us becoming gym rats!) going…so he convinced me that the trainer was the way to go.

OK. Fine.

So, on Day 1: The Assessment, this chick (the trainer) turns out to be super nice (I mean, despite the making me sweat thing) and an English major to boot. Good choice, Gym Manager Guy. Good choice.

She worked me a little hard to see my level of strength, but nothing terrible. Except for the Godawful Bosu.

The Bosu Balance Ball*: The Devil in Plastic.

I had informed Trainer about my bad knee, ankles, and wrists…basically that I can’t do a whole lot of anything on them. Or risk serious pain. Push-ups? Planks? No thank you.

So she decides that it’s a good idea to put me on this half ball thing, which only makes shit harder…

Resting my elbows on the Devil in Plastic, she had me hold a plank position (that means a push-up position with a flat back) for…AS LONG AS I COULD.

Which turned out to be 15 whole seconds.

She let me rest. And then she made me DO IT AGAIN.

This time, though, she told me to go to my happy place. And I started smiling. And thinking. And internally giggling. And I said to her,

A few days later, she brought out that dreaded thing again. And I was ready for it.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Fuck. I can’t focus. I can’t think of other cheeses.

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Blue!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

Why can’t I think of other cheeses?!

Why is this so hard!

Brie, cheddar, swiss, havarti.

And rest.

I may not have been able to divert my attention back to cheese but I did 3 reps of 30 seconds each, repeating my mantra inside my head. And if you’re going to have a mantra, it should be things you love right?

Never underestimate the power of cheese.

Do you work out? Do you want to work out? Do you have a gym membership you don’t use?

How do you get through tough workouts? What’s your secret?

*Some links lead to Amazon and may then lead to Amazon sending a tiny contribution to my cheese budget. I thank you in advance.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

When I lose a bet, make a deal, make a promise, I. Don’t. Mess. Around.

So let me give you the back story. In 2010, I was the President of the Lombard Jaycees. You may remember my previous tale of whoops, I screwed up and didn’t read the fine print when I was president. (BTW, I finally figured out how to acquire the video, so I’ve updated that post as well if you’re interested in more videos of me making an ass out of myself.) This story is kind of like that. But not at all.

So, I was a cocky son of a bitch when I was president. I had a plan. A plan to be the best in the land. And I made a bet with the National Treasurer. He bet me that I couldn’t increase the membership in my chapter by some random number. And my best friend, Ally and I said, “Screw you, we can TOTALLY do that. When we win. And we will. You will owe us the best cheese party in all the land.”

And so Treasurer said, “Ha! Silly proud ladies! You will not win. When you do not win you shall dress in drag (well, the girl version of drag. So you will dress like boys. And dance. And it will be hilarious.)”

You see, Treasurer had previously lost a bet in which he had to dress like a lady.

I’ve actually experienced this several times in my life. I’m really good at hanging out with people who do really crazy shit when they lose a bet. Note to self: Must find video of different guy singing to Chicago soundtrack in ladies clothing.

But Ally and I are good sports if nothing else. And if you haven’t figured out my love for the limelight yet, you’re not keeping up.

So we scavenged Goodwill stores across Chicago land on the hunt for: puffy vests, rip away pants, and muscle shirts. Then we got some giant temporary tattoos from a vending machine, and taught ourselves how to dance.

As we made our way to the year end conference, we were made aware of one thing. The social/mixer where we would be showing off our moves? Was definitely now open to the public. In years past, it was just conference attendees–Jaycees only. But they hired a fancy band to play and were letting the public come on in. So there were going to be a few extra sets of eyes on us.

We weren’t worried.

So that night, after a formal banquet we ran to our hotel room to change.

From this…

…to this.

Yes. We dressed up like “Backstreet Boys.”

And then we danced our little hearts out. To a crowded room full of people. Some strangers. Some friends. And we rocked the SHIT out of that place. And I FINALLY got a hold of video proof that it happened. And that we were sort of awesome.

Afterwards, Ally and I had our own cheese party in our hotel room. Because life is just plain better with cheese.

Blog Friends, have you ever lost a bet? Did you ever have to publicly embarrass yourself for funsies? What did you have to do? Am I alone in this one?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Not that this should surprise you or anything. I’ve always had a penchant for troublemakers. Even when I was 12-year-old misfit, I knew how to find the most entertaining kids.

So last weekend, when I went to a bridal shower, it was no surprise that I found myself at a table of instigators.

And this is how y’all responded

You’ll note that even the bride commented on “guiding us” to a table in the back (near the cupcakes, so we weren’t disappointed or anything).

We were tasked with writing notes to the bride on rocks. I love it when people get all Pinteresty. Of course, we had to steal all of the paint pens from all of the tables, so that we could write simultaneously. This was important business.

It was also important business to steal an extra rock off the only empty seat at our table…and write an additional note. “I wasn’t invited, but thanks for the food!” I truly have fantastic, brilliant and hilarious friends.

This was especially true when someone sat down at the empty seat at our table…and we needed to find a rock for her. The bride’s sister was less than impressed with our mad skill. She was also unwilling to let us sneak the bonus rock onto a different table. I can’t say that I blame her. We weren’t very sneaky.

After a few fart jokes…and a story about peeing…(Remind me to tell you guys that one, because of course, the pee story was MY story.) we got to the nitty gritty of troublemaking.

Because the present-opening part can get…well you know how the present-opening is at showers. We needed to be entertained. And DELICIOUS cupcakes can only hold a table of gals for so long. Especially when there are like…10 more cupcakes without tummies to find a home in. That we couldn’t possibly eat.

I, in an attempt to be sophisticated, ordered tea instead of coffee. They had a great selection of options, but I went with black tea so I could be super fancy and enjoy it Irish-style with milk and sugar.

Another girl at the table ordered an herbal tea, chamomile, I think, so we could be fancy together.

At the arrival of our hot beverages, the other girl thought it would be an excellent idea to also add milk to her tea. Because we were being fancy.

Unfortunately, after adding lemon and sugar and milk to her tea, we discovered that chamomile tea was not so good with milk. In fact…it curdled.

Instead of just…fessing up or ignoring it…we needed to fix the problem. Or at least hide it. Because that shit was nasty. So another girl at the table (the same one who showed up to a place setting without a rock–she was a real sport!) ordered another hot tea to replace the curdled one.

Once it arrived, we played a little game of bait and switch in which we poured the curdled tea into my empty tea pot (I had already refilled my cup), closed the lid and moved the curdled mug to the center of the table. And no one was ever the wiser. Until the teapot got to the dishwasher, I’m sure. Because that shit really was nasty.

Of course, we all thought that we had just learned something about tea and milk. Black tea with milk good. White tea with milk bad.

Except that we were wrong.

After some Google research, I learned that the LEMON was the curdling culprit. Not the tea.

Live and learn blog friends!

Are you a troublemaker? Do you find yourself giggling more than anyone else at a bridal shower or baby shower? Tell me about a time you did silly things when you were supposed to be a grown up!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I was offered the opportunity to give a room in my home a mini-makeover with lighting from GE, and I thought to myself, self, this sounds like a great excuse to clean your apartment.

And then it took me several weeks to clean my apartment.

Are you surprised? Me neither.

So when GE sent me free light bulbs to test out the difference between soft white light and GE Reveal bulbs, and when I finally cleaned the disaster of an apartment (and put away the Christmas village), I took it upon myself to spruce up my favorite spot in the apartment (aside from my cozy squishy bed…), my reading chair.

The bulbs looked pretty sweet to me. Brian was just excited to have acquired more free things we need for our home (or maybe I was excited. One of those.). I’m sure he can’t wait to see what happens when we get a house later this year…Then again, neither can I…well, whatever. This is the Chrissy Show anyways. But for now, we’ll have to settle with lighting up the apartment.

I love this chair. I learned to read in this chair. I remember being a tiny little (FINE) chubby little girl who could sit in the chair with her entire collection of Barbie dolls and read a book or put together a puzzle of the United State while watching Faerie Tale Theater’s Sleeping Beauty or Rainbow Bright on laser disc. (Yeah, I had a sweet childhood.) Anyways, I figured it was the perfect place to add a little bright lighting. And I was most certainly right.

Below, I’ve taken a few pictures of my reading chair to showcase the difference with before and after shots of the lighting.

Please forgive the barren nature of my walls. With Christmas just recently departed and plans to move soon, I never got around to adding a splash of color to the giant wall behind my reading chair.

And actually…One of the things that I think is really cool about lighting is that it not only brightens up a room, but it can also add depth and texture to your walls. Sure, I don’t have fancy art on the wall above my chair, but look at the way the lamp shadows behind itself when the light is directly on the area. It looks awesome, right?

Before:

When the soft white light is indirectly shining on my reading chair

After:

When the GE Reveal light isn’t directly aimed at the spot, it’s still brighter and more natural

Before:

This is what soft white lighting looks like on my book chair.

After:

Shining the GE Reveal Light on my favorite spot

So you can see that it doesn’t look bad with the soft white lighting, but the GE Reveal is actually super bright and makes it feel like natural lighting. I’m a huge fan of the new lighting. And so is Staley the Bear. We’ve been using the new lighting for a few days now, and it’s really picking up the mood around here, too. Winter may be long and depressing, but spring will be here soon, amiright?!

*These opinions are all my own. Other than the complimentary light bulbs, I was not compensated in any other way to write nice things in this post. I truly love the way the Reveal lighting looks in our home.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Yes, yes…Denny’s occasionally sends me gift cards to test out their tasty treats, but if I wasn’t a fan, I wouldn’t say yes. So, just because I got to enjoy the following breakfast sandwich at no-cost to me, doesn’t mean I don’t go there on my own. Because I do.

Dear Denny’s,

Thank you so much for creating a most-delicious breakfast sandwich. I feel like you can read my mind. It’s like you KNOW how much I love breakfast. And breakfast sandwiches, in particular. And a good deal on top of that! Even more so, I feel that you’re really trying to be innovative with your breakfast options. You accommodate the foodies with unique ideas and flavorful combinations. You accommodate the breakfast traditionalists. And most importantly for this girl right now, you accommodate the healthy eaters.

Just because I’m starting a healthy-ish eating plan today doesn’t mean I intend to banish dining out from my routine. Nor does it mean that I can’t indulge in a breakfast sandwich every now and then. But if I can enjoy a healthy alternative that doesn’t make me FEEL like I’m giving anything up? Awesome. That’s where you come in, Denny’s. Because your new fit fare breakfast sandwich? To die for.

Look at that healthy plate of joy. It looked just like the picture on the menu! And nooo, that isn’t a side of hashbrowns that I ordered to go with my healthy breakfast (OK, fine. Yes it is. But I didn’t eat them all…OK, fine. Yes I did. Gosh!)

Now if I was rolling on a budget, and didn’t want the healthy fruit and yogurt side, I could also have gotten a sandwich and hashbrowns for $4. Um, tastier than fast food with higher quality ingredients and…wait for it…cheaper?!

Sold.

Denny’s you’re getting better every day.

I look forward to more delicious adventures with you in the very near future,

Sincerely,

Me.

Of course, for those of you who aren’t trying to eat healthy and don’t want a breakfast sandwich loaded with egg whites, turkey bacon, spinach, tomatoes and pepper jack cheese, you can get a deliciously loaded meaty-cheesy-eggy sandwich instead. Either way, you’ll be pleased. I was.

Blog friends, do you have favorite breakfast combinations? Comfort food for the morning soul? Keep the conversation going on Twitter with @DennysDiner

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Thanks to the wonderful people at Skinny Scoop for taking a chance with an unknown kid. By sponsoring this post about comfort food, they’ve helped support my Midnight Moon addiction.

I’ve been consuming a LOT of comfort food lately. Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s the stress of working and blogging and dealing with Chicago winter. Either way, I’ve definitely been eating a lot of my favorites. So much that I am probably going to start one of them there fancy diets pretty soon here…I even signed up for a personal trainer at the gym. If that doesn’t make me show up, I don’t know what will.

My theory on the gym? If I go, and genuinely work out on the regular, I can still consume some of my favorites (in moderation). Because giving up on queso seems wrong. And if anyone remembers that one time I gave cheese up for Lent? And HOW well that worked out for the practice of Lent (sorry, Mom)?

The other night, I had a decadent and ridiculous grilled cheese sandwich that I’m going to have to make again and destroy your diet with a recipe and pictures because holy crap was it that GOOD. It was like breakfast on crack. For dinner.

Last night? A charcuterie platter before dinner. Mac and cheese. Some of Brian’s beef Wellington. I didn’t even bother with dessert. I was stuffed.

Twice in the last two months, I’ve been caught playing chocolate roulette…like a a gambling addict only with chocolate instead of money.

What are some of your favorite comfort foods?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Cheese tasting lessons (obviously my contribution to the team)

I explained the art of letting cheese sit to room temperature before consumption to enhance the flavor profile. Basically, I made them eat cheese twice. Once, when it was cold, and again when it had warmed to room temp. Because I’m fucking awesome.

Candy necklace eating contest (also my contribution to the team)

Chocolate Roulette (also me)

It only took me three pieces of chocolate to find the coconut truffle!

One of the joys of collecting is the treasure hunting aspect of it. I don’t want to just collect random crap. I want to hunt for it. That’s why I love Disney pins so much. And seashells.

This is some of my seashell collection from this year. I’m leaving them out to dry in the sunlight from our balcony door.

I’ve become something of a pro with seashell collecting, though. Our annual trips to Marco Island in southwest Florida are really great for that. Each year, the shelling gets better…or I get better at shelling. One of those. Either way, I went ahead and took some video of my sand dollar hunting on Sand Dollar Island, just north of Tigertail Beach in Marco Island, Florida.

This is the best place I’ve ever experienced shelling. I find everything. One year I found a sea urchin, another year I found a fake Louis Vuitton watch (which was still worth a ridiculous amount of money!), and SO many other shells. This year, I ran into several people who found the coveted junonia, which I can only dream of finding…

One day.

Anyways, there are 3 easy ways to find sand dollars in my experience.

The first two are in the video. The third one-I didn’t learn until after I made the video. Don’t hate.

When I hunt for sand dollars, I like to go early in the morning, as the low tide starts coming in. (I’d go before the low tide, but…Fuck. That. Waking up hours before sunrise? No thank you.)

As you walk on the beach, keep your eyes to the ground. This may result in walking into things or people, but it’s worth it. I promise.

Look for sand dollars in large piles of shells. They may be hidden and a darker color if the shells are still wet from the water. Or they may be bright and white and dried, but hard to notice under the sun.

Walk along the shore line and look for sand dollars that have recently washed in. These will be much harder to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.

Of course, you’ll want to be careful to check if the sand dollars are alive!

These purple sand dollars are alive. I had to pick them up and look at the bottom to make sure, but their little bristles were moving ever-so-slightly, so I had to relinquish them back to the sea. It was really awesome to hold the live little buddy in my hand though!

Look for sand dollars that might be buried under the sand. I don’t have any pictures of this, because a woman who passed me on the beach showed me on a day I didn’t have a camera with me. Next year. I promise!

Do you enjoy shelling? Collecting things? What’s your proudest piece of a collection that you have?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

V-day isn’t a big deal for me. Not really. The best part about Valentine’s Day is the anniversary of my godson’s birth. But having a boyfriend who’s awesome makes me kind of want to enjoy a day that Hallmark created about love and romance. So I will.

The Valentine for all of my lady friends

Every year, Brian and I go out to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. We enjoy a meal that usually involves dark and devious beer (for me), cider (for him), cheese and other tasty food.

Then we head home and watch a Disney princess movie. Yes. My boyfriend loves me that disgustingly much. He sucks it up and watches ONE princess movie a year. Unless there’s one out in the theater…and then he’ll go watch with me, like he did for Frozen.

So far, we’ve watched Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, and Sleeping Beauty.

With a week until our Valentine’s Day tradition, my question for you guys:

What Disney movie should I make my boyfriend watch this year?

Also, what are your Valentine’s Day traditions? With friends, family, or your significant other?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

One of my life goals: Swim with dolphins. Because I think that I was a fish or a fishy mammal in another life. Seriously, I’ve always loved being in the water. They threw me right in as a baby, and I’ve been in love ever since.

This year, I wanted to go to the Florida Keys to swim with, hug and kiss a real, live dolphin. One that wasn’t wild in the middle of the ocean with the potential to kill me. (I know. Dolphins. But still. Wild. Animals.)

I also wanted to snorkel. Last year, when we went to Marco Island, Brian’s mom told me that we should get his dad to take us snorkeling in Key Largo, because she absolutely loved it. I promised myself that we would do that, even if we didn’t do it last year…

Being the only one in a group of 4 that thought it was acceptable to pay several hundred dollars to swim with a dolphin…my P1 became the P2. Unfortunate…but…it was fine (and not the I’m-a-girl-and-going-to-say-it’s-fine-but-it’s-really-not kind of fine, just normal I’m-not-a-crazy-bitch fine). I’ll just go to Florida and swim with dolphins on my own time.

So snorkeling it was. We drove the 3 hour ride through the Everglades to Key Largo where we 1. Didn’t have a plan. 2. Apparently had TWO maybe plans. That required back and forth driving to decide which was a better deal.

This is where I had to get one of my bloggie besties to calm me off my ledge…

OCD has no place on vacation.OCD has no place on vacation.OCD has no place on vacation.OCD has no place on vacation.OCD has no place on vacation.

So, I listened to reason. And stopped freaking out. Brian and his brother also made a solid decision to stay at the place we were at and not drive around looking for a better deal or a longer snorkel trip. And so we slowed our day down. And got things ready for this snorkel trip. And walked around John Pennekamp to explore the beauty and such.

Waitin’

Beauty.

Love

Just me and the boys

The Atlantic

Chill time

It was a REALLY perfect day too. We wandered for a few hours, got all of our gear for snorkeling, sunscreened the fuck up (when I came back just as pale as when I left, my co-workers and even the conductor on my train were all, WTF, Christine? And of course I responded, um Um hello?! Irish skin. And I don’t want cancer. Or a nasty leather stomach like some of those old ladies I saw in Marco sporting sports bras and power walking.)

When it was time to head over to our boat, I KNEW it was going to be a great day. The name of the boat said all I needed to see. I mean, imagine the good fortune and the joy that came with a sweet ride named after one of my favorite sea creatures. It was definitely going to be a great day.

The boat ride out to the Coral Reef was awesome. The breeze through my hair, the amusing boat captains cracking jokes about boozin’. The quick lesson in snorkel gear. It all sounded good to me. This was my first trip out on the Atlantic that I am aware of. I’ve been of the beach before, but never in the middle of the fucking ocean.

Crystal waters. Joy!

I love that face. It says, “Chrissy, I love you, but please stop taking my picture.” To which I obviously, loudly reply, “NO.”

Do I look like a dolphin trainer? Because I felt like one!

Pretty fucking far from shore, my friends…

After a brief training where the people in charge explained how to snorkel in about 15 minutes, we were ready to roll. Brian and I were the last ones out of the boat…

And as soon as I hit the water, I freaked the fuck out. Like full-blown panic. Apparently, it didn’t hit me until that EXACT moment that I was IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKINGOCEAN.I had my snorkel mask on and the snorkel in my mouth and was wearing the most buoyant wet suit on the planet (which I didn’t even realize, to be perfectly honest–I just knew I wasn’t swimming hard or sinking) and flippers. This was the closest to being a fish I’ve ever been in my life. And I was TERRIFIED.

Thankfully, Brian calmed me the fuck down as we floated 30 feet in the wrong direction of the boat. Apparently, it’s really fucking hard to swim with flippers on. I couldn’t get the hang of it. At. All. Brian had to hold my hand and cart me around, pretty much the entire time I was in the water.

After being yelled at by the boat captain, we made our way back toward the coral stuff. And I got acquainted with having my head in the water. Which was weird.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you about the cheap disposable camera we purchased. I ALMOST bought an underwater camera for this experience. And decided to instead invest that money in a sweet Canon camera that I got a great deal on thanks to Amazon:

(It was the highest rated point and shoot on Consumer Reports; also shameless plug for my Amazon affiliate…if you click above, you might help me buy more cheese</cheesemoneytalk>).

So at the gift shop, we got a disposable camera to take underwater photos for you. Underwater, I pointed and Brian shot. It was a good system…especially when I saw a Dorie-fish (not sure what she was and too lazy to Google anymore…) and was yelling through my snorkel, “DORIE! DORIE! Get a picture of Dorie!)

Honestly, I’m not sure this is the Dorie picture or not. It was all very confusing.

According to Google, this blue fish with a yellow fin is a yellowtail snapper

Rainbow Parrotfish – It was a lot prettier underwater.

It’s hard to see, but there is a fucking school of barracudas down there. A fucking school. Well, like 12. But still. Holeeee shit.

Up close and personal with a barracuda.

Eventually, I decided that I wanted to play with the camera. Or Brian wanted a picture of himself. One of those.

And he relinquished the camera to me.

Which was pretty much the worst idea ever. Not only could I not figure the damn thing out, things started to go downhill. Fast. I’m not sure if I swallowed any water, or if the floating motion got to me, or if the looking through the lens of the tiny camera underwater was the ace in the hole…but vertigo hit and it hit fucking FAST.

Immediately, I had to lift out of the water, remove my snorkel and freak the fuck out. Again.

I was going to vomit. I was going to vomit all over the Coral Reef and myself and Brian and the fish and the barracudas were going to eat me and it was all over. I’m only a little bit of a drama queen.

I knew I needed to get out of the water and out of the suit and out of the mask and the flippers and be done. But I didn’t want to ruin Brian’s fun. The saint that he is still voluntarily pulled me to the boat, while I panicked and tried really hard not to puke into the water that everyone was swimming in, unaware of my agony and that they might just swim into vomit at any minute now.

We made it to the boat. Brian pulled off my flippers (because bending down seemed like the worst idea ever. Worse than anything. Ever.) and I crawled up to the boat. I spent the next hour sipping water and wishing I were on land while everyone else enjoyed being fish for a day.

Brian got a picture of himself (I think courtesy of his brother)

Before it was all over, Brian and his brother even saw this GIGANTIC goliath grouper. Apparently it was the size of a large cow. And bad ass awesome. I’m so jealous.

Don’t feel bad for me, though, Blog Friends. I had a good time and got a story out of it.

Have you ever had high expectations for something that didn’t quite go as expected?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

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